The Funeral
by Teenageriot2004
Summary: This is my version of what happened after Buffy died, but before she came back. This may have been done before.
1. Default Chapter

The Funeral  
  
I own none of these characters. That's Joss Whedon's pleasure. I just had a story to tell. Let me know what you think, the positives and the negatives. It's only way i'll learn.

* * *

It was a cold night, especially for a May evening. He had been out every night for the past week, and tonight was no different. Spike was looking down into the graveyard from atop a tomb. For a Californian town, Sunnydale had a lot of gothic crypts. It was one of the main reasons he had been attracted to the place. 

That, and the hellmouth. 

But he had never imagined that he would be hunting vampires, let alone that he would ever split from Dru. But that was a long time ago. Before the American government had shoved a chip into his brain. Imagine, William 'The Bloody' unable to hurt humans. 

Spike sighed. 'Bloody yanks' he thought to himself. 

He looked down to the ground. A hand was sticking out of the ground. Spike allowed his mouth to curl up into his trademark smirk. 

He could still hurt demons though. And tonight he felt like dishing out a little hurt.

* * *

The vampire pulled himself out of the ground. 

He looked around. 

He was hungry. 

He felt so full of energy, of new life, yet so hollow and empty. 

He couldn't remember much, just a girl. They had been dancing, then they had a drink, and then she bit into him. She must have spiked his drink he had been thinking. There was no way he would have drank her blood if he had been in his right mind. But he had. And now he was covered in dirt, looking up into a half crescent moon. 

The night was his. Soon all the people who had crossed him would know their place. They would regret the things they had done to him. He would taste their blood. He would right the wrongs they had done. 

He would start by removing the arrow that was in his chest. 

"Wait a minute-" he started. 

Spike threw a punch across his jaw. He looked down at his crossbow. 

"Knew I should have practised," He hissed under his breath. 

The vampire got back up and jumped at Spike, who side stepped the pounce, leaving the vamp in a pile on the floor. 

"C'mon mate, you're dealing with the big bad here. Not gonna be caught out by a ponce like you, am I?" Spike taunted the new-sired vamp. 

The demon got back up. 

He looked at Spike. He clenched his hands, and looked into the eyes of the platinum blonde vampire. And he swivelled on his heel and ran.

Spike's jaw dropped slightly at this. He half choked a laugh. 

"Bloody fine example of a vampire he is, I think not" Spike grabbed a stake from his leather coat. 

Grabbing the point he aimed at the fleeing vampire. After a second, Spike launched the small piece of wood, and watched with a sense of satisfaction as the vamp exploded into dust. 

Spike smiled, pleased with what he had accomplished. Then his suddenly it hit him. Buffy was dead. And with that a tear spilt from his eyes. Buffy was dead, and no matter how many vampires he killed he couldn't change that. No one could.

* * *

  
  
Spike walked slowly towards the cemetery entrance. He looked at the graves as he passed them. Buffy would be here soon. 

Tomorrow. 

It wasn't fair. The slayer was decent, pure, and all things that nice little girls are made off. But she was also strong. Free willed. It was what Spike liked about her. It was what made her stand out from others. 

He had only loved one other person. That was Dru. And she was mad. The technical term was 'Loopy'. He had only loved one real person in his life. And she was dead. Which was ironic, as it wasn't until two hundred years into Spike's death that he ever loved anyone. But she would never have returned his affection. 

He knew that. 

She loved the heroic prats. 

Angel and Riley. Spike could be just a good a man as them. He just didn't want to be. Not if Buffy wasn't in the world. He was only patrolling because he said he would keep Dawn safe. The others didn't understand why Spike was helping. They just knew he was, and didn't ask questions. 

Giles, Xander and Willow tried to ignore him. They tried to pretend it wouldn't matter if he just disappeared. Only Tara and Dawn ever acknowledged that he was helping. He didn't care about whether they liked him or not, as long as Dawn was safe.

* * *

As he walked he realized he had made it to the town centre. The magic box looked to be closed. The lights were off, which was unusual. Giles tended to stay as late as he could, in order to avoid Spike at Dawn's house. 

Dawn's house. 

It didn't seem right to refer to that place as Dawn's. But it was now. Spike looked up and saw a man grab a girl and take her down the nearest alley. 

'Not tonight', he thought to himself. Spike grabbed his stake and bolted to the alley. 'Not another girl'. As he got there the girl ran past him. 

Spike stopped. That hadn't happened before. The damsel had never rescued herself. More often than not they were wearing stilettos, and brightly coloured cloths. It was why Spike loved humans. They thought that they were the biggest kid in the playground. They thought they were the strongest. They were the stupidest, Spike thought. They killed each other all the time, as if they didn't have enough enemies. And it made Spike laugh all the more that he was their protector now. 

Spike had never wanted the human race to die or anything. Vampires liked to talk big, but that's what it was talk. Occasionally you get the big thinker, the one who has a real desire to actually do it, to actually destroy the human race. Angelus was one, the Master too. 

But Spike liked this world. He liked Manchester United. He liked T.V., especially 'Passions'. He just plain liked what they came up with. He was the model consumer. Anything they could think of, Spike would evidently like. For a rebel, he was amazingly adept at conforming. But it still seemed stupid to him that he was the man to defend this town from his fellow demon kind. Or the biggest joke that God could come up with. 

'Let's have some fun with Spike' was what they were saying he imagined. Didn't matter if he was their little plaything. He wasn't doing this for them. He was doing it for her. 

Spike stopped his train of thought and looked down the alley. He saw two men fighting. They both smelt like vampires. The he recognised one of the scents. And he saw a face he hadn't in a few years. And he wished that he hadn't today. 

Any other day, just not today. Or tomorrow actually. 

"Angel!" he growled in a low voice. 

Angel turned to him, as he was finished dusting the vamp. 

"Spike!" he said in an equally low but angry voice.

* * *

  
  
Spike looked at his grand sire. The man he hated for being a ponce first of all, and secondly because every girl he loved, or remotely cared for, eventually ended up with him, or had been his first. Buffy had loved the spiky haired git. But she had died with him, fighting side by side with him, not Angel, but Spike. That made Spike feel proud. 

"What you doing here?" Spike asked the Vampire. 

"Don't see how it's any of your business William" 

"Well, this here is my town now, mate. And seeing as your on my patch, I'm making it my business" the platinum blonde vampire told him. 

"Didn't know they were giving eunuchs town's nowadays" 

Spike glared at him. 

"I can still hurt you, you poncy haired prat" 

"Bring it on Spike" he spat the name rather than say it. 

Spike could see the same look in Angel's face that he had been feeling. Guilt and remorse all jumbled into one feeling. That was the only thing that stopped Spike jumping in right there and then. 

"You're here for her aren't you," Spike stated, rather than ask. 

"Don't you dare Spike. You're not fit to talk about her." Angel noticed the stake in Spikes hand. "Why were you coming down here? Looking for trouble? Heard I was back in town?" 

"None of your business mate. I'll be on my way, you can be on yours" Spike turned to walk away. 

"You really think this is how it's gonna end Spike? You're more stupid than I thought" 

Spike stopped in his tracks. Not out of fear. Anger. "No, Angel. Not today. Not now. After she's in the ground, after she's gone, then I'll beat you. But not before." 

Angel looked at Spike, surprised at what he had just heard from a man he considered to be almost as evil as he had been, back in the day. 

"You love her Spike? Is that what this is?" Angel asked, almost angry at what he was saying. 

"More than you did obviously" Spike answered. 

Angel's eyes widened. 

"You son of a bitch. How dare you. I loveed Buffy. I do. More than you ever could. You don't have a soul Spike you can't feel anything!" 

"Is that what you tell yourself now, Angelus. You know as well as I do that we feel." Spike tilted his head with the last sentence, trying to hide the fact that he was near tears. "And at least I was by her side fighting in the end, where were you? We're not fighting now. I'm not letting you get over it. You can't blame me for you not being here. You're not taking it out on me. You got issues go find another demon to take it out on" 

Spike turned to leave, but stopped and faced Angel. "Or better yet, look in the mirror" And with that Spike left, walking away into the darkness of the night.

* * *

Angel continued to stare at where Spike had been for what seemed like an eternity. It had been around five years since Angel first met Buffy. Face to face at least. He had seen her before. Whistler had shown her to him. She had made him want to seek redemption. A young girl had made the most feared Vampire in recent history want to be good. If that wasn't a Hollywood movie waiting to happen, then Angel didn't know what was. 

He had come to Sunnydale because Willow had insisted. And then Wesley and Cordelia had insisted that they come. Gunn had stayed back at the hotel with Fred and Lorne, trying to help the girl adjust to life in the 'city of angels'. Angel hadn't felt comfortable leaving them, but they didn't feel it was appropriate to come to a funeral of a girl they had never met. He understood how they felt. 

He had known Buffy, he had been with Buffy, loved her and he still didn't feel comfortable attending her burial. This was the girl he loved, the girl who had, literally, taken his soul. And she was dead. Buffy Summers was dead. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. 

He hadn't been to the house yet. He couldn't face the others. No matter what Angel told himself, Spike was right. He should have been there with Buffy at the end. That's what heroes did. They blamed themselves. And while Angel was the last person to admit he was a hero, he was something more than that when it came to Buffy. 

They were soul mates. And if Buffy was dead, Angel wanted to be too. Part of him wanted Spike to start trouble. He wanted the feeling of emptiness to go away. He had been with this feeling for nearly a century the last time, and he didn't want to have to experience that feeling again. 

Buffy was his reason for atoning, for being a better person. Without her what was the point. He didn't give a damn about the shanshu prophecy. What good was being human if he couldn't be with the girl that he had loved?

* * *

Xander was reading a comic. 'The death of superman'. Willow was looking at a spell book. 'The art of transmogrification'. Willow and Xander were trying hard to ignore each other. 

They were sitting apart, Xander sprawled on the couch, Willow at the dining room table. Every few pages Xander would look up, to see the back of his best friends head. 

They hadn't talked, really talked for the last few days, since before she left for L.A. She had got back two days ago. It was hard to believe that one of 'The musketeers' was dead, Xander thought to himself. 

He caught a laugh, a soft awkward laugh, from Willow. 

"There were four musketeers dumby," she said out loud. 

Xander got a shocked look on his face. 'Oh God, she's in my head. We're doing that again. Don't think of sex, don't think of sex' Xander thought to himself as he closed his eyes. 

"Xander!" Willow exclaimed. "Buffy was right, that is all you think of" 

Xander suddenly stopped the comic routine. 

She had said Buffy. 

She had said her name. 

"When did you start reading mind's Will?" Xander asked, in an attempt to change the subject. 

"I learnt how to do it ages ago. When the mayor was around. Don't change the subject" 

Xander looked at her. She had turned her chair to face her best friend. 

"Will, I can't. She's gone. She's dead" Xander tried to hold his tone, but there was a slight waver in his voice. He turned his gaze back to the comic. He wasn't reading it, but he didn't want to look at Willow. 

"We've dealt with death before Xander" she tried to keep him talking. She had to keep him talking. 

"I don't want to talk about it Will it's not important" 

"Not important? We're burying our friend tomorrow Xander. We're going to put Buffy in the ground" She was quite fierce with her tone, almost attacking Xander. 

"Willow, don't-" Before Xander could finish Willow cut him off. 

"Don't what Xander? Don't talk about it? Don't let any emotion show? What Xander, don't what? It's Buffy we're talking about" 

"That's the point Will. It's never been one of us before" this time Xander didn't even try to hide his emotions. His voice crackled and his eyes watered. 

Willow got up and moved to him. 

"I know I'm meant to keep strong, I know we're meant to stay firm for Dawn, but I can't Will" 

He buried his head into Willow, who cradled his head rubbing his back softly. 

"God help me, part of me wishes she had died instead" Willow looked sadly at Xander, and rocked him as he cried. 


	2. A Time For Thought

The Funeral

Once again, I own none of these characters. They belong to that magician Joss Whedon. Enjoy (And review!!! please!!).

* * *

Giles was at his house. 

He was sat looking at the door. He had been here for about two hours. He had closed the shop early. He had said he would meet Angel here. He wanted to keep the vampire as far away from Dawn as possible. He knew seeing him would be hard for Dawn. If she felt anything like him, she would blame the en-souled demon for Buffy's death. 

In truth Giles didn't blame Angel, but he did feel that if the Vampire had cared as much as he said he did he should have been there, regardless of whether he was in another dimension or whatever he had told Willow. He should have found a way. 

Willow had returned two days ago, but Angel had to sort a few things out before he could come down. Giles had telephoned and told Angel to meet him first at his house before going to Dawn's. 

There was a knock at the door. 

Giles got up, took a swig of his glass of scotch and walked to the door. He took a deep breath, and turned the handle. He did not expect to be greeted by who was in front of him. An as the shock registered itself, two arms came lunging at his neck.

* * *

"Giles, how you been?" squealed Cordelia. 

The ex-cheerleader wrapped her arms around the ageing librarian. Behind her stood Wesley, the man who had been charged with looking after Buffy when the watcher's council had fired Giles. He looked different, more assured. 

"Cordelia, don't take this the wrong way, but what are you two doing here?" Giles asked, as he tried to remove her vice like grip. Wesley walked into the house after Cordelia, who had unattached herself from Giles' neck. 

"We came for the funeral," he explained to Giles.

"When we found out we had to come. We knew her too Giles," Cordelia justified herself. Wesley looked at his feet as Giles closed the door behind them. 

"Where's Angel?" he asked, whilst nodding in response to Cordelia's statement. 

"Well you know our dark avenger," the skinny girl told him. Giles looked on puzzled, as if to ask 'what?' "He's avenging" Cordelia told him, sounding almost disgusted that she had to explain herself. 

Giles looked over to Wesley. "Cup of tea?" he asked his countryman. 

"Thank you, but I'm not that thirsty," Wesley replied. He looked at Giles' home. It was different from what he had expected. There was a guitar in the corner for one. He had never imagined Giles as a musician. Lorne would have loved him. 

"Cordelia?" Giles asked as he turned. 

"Have you got anything stronger??" Cordelia asked him. Giles motioned to the bottle of scotch he had been drinking from moments earlier. Cordelia picked up the scotch and poured it into an empty mug that was on the table. 

"Giles, are we staying here tonight or at Buff-" Wesley stopped before he could finish what he was saying. "Sorry, I didn't think" 

Giles looked at the young English man. "That's why you'll be staying here. In case you have any more lapses" he seemed angry at Wesley's mistake. They all stared at each other, silent. Cordelia hated awkward silence. 

"Well this scotch is great!" she exclaimed.

* * *

Spike walked into the kitchen of Dawn's house. He walked to the fridge and pulled a packet of pig's blood. He ripped it, poured the blood into a mug and placed the cup in the microwave. He turned the machine on and sat at the counter. 

He palmed his face, rubbing the weariness out of his flesh. His hair wasn't neatly slicked back as it normally was, but instead tufts were sticking up. He couldn't be bothered to put it right. He wasn't trying to portray an image. He was fighting evil so he could hardly claim to be the big bad. And the only person that he gave a toss about how they saw him was dead. He looked through the doorway into the hall. He couldn't see anyone, but he could hear crying. 'Probably the witch' he thought to himself. 

He looked at a magazine on the counter. It was a fashion magazine. He flipped through the first few pages and came across a picture of a girl who was the spitting image of Buffy. He paused and looked at the girl. He wondered what her life was like, if she had a brain cell in that pretty little head of hers. He guessed not, otherwise why would she be modelling the latest shoes from some French prat? 

He heard a bell go off, and turned towards the microwave. His blood was done. He opened the microwave door and took a gulp. As he did he remembered one of the last things he had said to Buffy. It had been about how it had to be Dawn's blood that opened the portal to Glory's home. Blood kept you warm, gave you life. He felt guilty drinking it. He felt like he was taking life from Buffy. He wondered what was in store for the future. Spike couldn't understand why a soulless demon was saved, and why the champion of the human race was allowed to die. He didn't understand. He didn't want to understand. He finished his drink and walked out the door. There was more on the streets than vampires. Worse. And Spike was angry.

* * *

Dawn was sitting on her bed. For the last few days she had been hard at work trying to fix something she had broken. Her diaries. She was trying to re-write them. 

"This would be so much easier if I had the originals" she sighed to herself. 

She was trying to remember the time when she was five and Buffy had stolen her favourite doll. She couldn't quite remember how her dad had solved that dispute; just that it ended with ice cream all round. It was like some kind of sit-com solution to problems. "Let's get ice cream!" her dad had exclaimed. Thinking back it was kind of weird. Kind of too perfect. Dawn guessed the monks had messed up with that memory. Everything else was almost perfect, apart from the odd glitch. 

Like the fact Dawn had always known that Buffy was the slayer, but had never let it slip to their mom. She always tadled on Buffy. Always. But not this time. 

She heard a door slam. She looked out her window. Spike was leaving the house. She got why Spike had stuck around. None of the others did. Spike had loved Buffy, and if he hadn't been caught out by that freaky old man, Doc Spike had called him, then Buffy would be downstairs right now shouting up the stairs to her little sister about how much trouble she was in. Spike felt guilty. Dawn could identify with that. If she hadn't been given to Buffy to protect, then her sister would still be alive. Only she wouldn't be her sister. They wouldn't have ever met; Dawn might not even have been human. She certainly wouldn't be the person she was now if it weren't for Buffy.

She was made from Buffy. The monks had used the slayer as a template in creating her. It was one of the reasons Dawn wasn't as upset as everyone else. She missed her sister, she had cried for days. But she also knew that a part of Buffy was in her, a large part. And that Buffy wasn't really dead as long as she was around. Tara had told her that. Dawn loved Tara. 

The witch had been the strongest of the group in the aftermath. Even stronger than Giles, though he hid it well. Dawn had caught the watcher crying a couple of times, only to be told he had something in his eye. Tara had kept her grief inside. No one had seen her cry. Maybe Willow, but none of the others. 

Dawn wondered how she would feel tomorrow. It had been her idea for a late evening burial, the last of the day. She wanted Spike there. She felt it was the least that the vampire deserved. It also meant that Angel could come. She didn't blame him for Buffy's death, but she did feel he should have been there. If he loved her as much as he said he did, he would have been there. She hoped there wouldn't be any trouble between Angel and Spike. At least not tomorrow. Tomorrow was for everyone. It was a chance to say goodbye before they moved on. It was a chance to say goodbye.

* * *

Tara was in the bedroom where Buffy and Dawn's mom had slept. Willow and her were sleeping in there now. It had made the most sense, seeing as they were going to look after Dawn now. They knew Giles was leaving for England soon. They were the only ones who knew. Giles was having a hard time breaking it to the others. 

She was reading a book. It was Descartes six meditations. She was studying it in preparation for Philosophy next semester. She was also trying to get away from being the rock of the house. Everyone was falling to pieces, everyone apart from her. Dawn seemed to have accepted the death of her sister the easiest. 

Tara, however, knew this wasn't the case. It had been Tara who had held Dawn's hand as she cried for the first few nights. It was Tara who tried to explain to Dawn that life goes on. And it was Tara who was wishing someone would do that for her. Willow was a tower of strength, but Tara knew she was as hurt as anyone else. Mr. Giles had enough on his plate for Tara to burden him with more grief. So she kept quiet. He read her books. She kept her pain inside. Buffy had been the first of the group to stand up for her when her family came to town. She had been her saviour that day. 

And Tara felt that she had to look after the group in her absence. She had to become the mother. The others were so young. Tara may have been the same age as the others, but emotionally there was no comparison. Tara had been raised in a life of abuse and conflict. Being constantly told she was a demon, and how she would transform at her twentieth birthday. Being forced into a life not of her choosing. When she had left for collage she had tried to forget, but it had stuck with her. She had trouble making friends. She had trouble speaking to anyone. Willow had changed that. 

And now she was the most able of the group. Willow was a child at heart, unsure of the world, curious. Xander felt he had to resort to humour whenever the going got tough. Anya didn't understand death. Dawn was technically one eight months old. She had to keep them together. Had to keep them strong. Especially now that Mr. Giles was leaving. She sighed and put her book down. She felt tense. She felt soar. Tara walked to the bathroom, closed the door behind her and ran a bath.

* * *

Angel walked down the steps that led to Giles' house. He paused. He could smell that Cordelia and Wesley were already here. He didn't want to see Giles. He didn't want to have to explain himself as to why he wasn't there when Buffy died. He didn't want the watchers eyes staring into him. Even though Angel was over two hundred and forty years old, something about Rupert Giles made him uneasy. 

It might have been the fact that he had killed the ex-librarian's girlfriend, and then tortured him for good measure. He didn't have a soul then, but he could still remember it like it was his hand cutting into the Englishman's flesh, his lips tasteing the blood of the gypsy woman. Back before he had been turned he wouldn't have felt any guilt hurting the pigs that had taken his homeland. But when you became a vampire you left behind nationality. You left behind those feelings. You didn't hate anyone. You pitied them. You killed them. It wasn't the same. 

He sat on the steps. He could see through the window by the door, and he could see Cordelia sitting at a table. He couldn't see Giles or Wesley. He could imagine whatever they were talking about wouldn't have been that interesting. 

Angel's thoughts turned to Fred. He wondered how she was doing. He wouldn't see her for a long time now he knew. He hadn't told the others yet, but he was going to go away for a while after the funeral. He had to take some time once Buffy was at rest. He had to assess his life. He had to find a new reason to fight for. He looked up when he heard a noise. Giles was staring at him, the door ajar.

"You had better come in," the watcher's elegant tone of voice inviting him, but also scorning him. 

Angel swallowed hard, got up and walked into the house.

* * *

Spike jumped from the wall, and landed a punch on he demon he had been chasing. The monster fell to the floor, dropping a basket he had been carrying. 

"Nice basket, wager there's a baby in there, right?" Spike asked the demon.

The basket had fallen in such a way, that the lid had opened. Kittens ran loose.

"Oh, bollox!" Spike moaned, "I nailed the big kitten thief? Well that's heroic!" 

The demon got up, his extra skin flapping as he got up. "Why did you jump on me?" he asked, his eyes wide open. 

"You're a demon. You're evil. I was trying to hurt you, you nit!" Spike told the demon. 

"I'm not evil. Just because I haven't got a soul doesn't make me evil. It just means that I were to kill anyone or do something of equal evilness, which I haven't, I wouldn't have any guilt. Doesn't mean I want to hurt things" the pink demon defended himself. 

Spike looked at the creature. "Well I guess you do have a point," he said, straight faced. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to kill you" 

"Wait, wait a second. I got money?" the demon pleaded. 

Spike moved in on him. 

"I got kittens, well I had kittens," 

Spike vamped out. 

"I have buffalo wings at my place!" 

The last ditch effort got Spikes attention. Buffalo wings. He did like buffalo wings. But this was a demon, and Spike wanted to get his anger out on something. 

"I can make those flower onion things that go with them!" the demon tried in vain to make it seem more appealing. 

"You got beer?" Spike asked. The demon nodded. "Fine, let's go" Spike told him. The demon wasn't exactly going to destroy the world. He wanted to be drunk. He wanted to forget. He wanted Buffy. 

"My names Clem, by the way," the demon told an uninterested Spike "What's yours?" 

The two walked off together. 


End file.
